Born Again

They met in Turin, returned to Sydney together, married within six months and had three children. They were still happily married too. And despite my father's sometimes gruff temperament, he absolutely adored my mother, and it was obvious who actually wore the pants in the relationship.

"My lawyer has been given word that I might finally see them next month."

"It's a fucking joke," my father exclaimed, "No father should be kept from his kids like this."

Shrugging helplessly, he knew the story as Mum was calling me nearly every evening, no doubt checking up on me. My fridge was full of all the food she'd been cooking for me. I might be in my mid-thirties, but I was still her little boy. As for my sisters, they were constant visitors. They loved their older brother.

Three weeks later, I received a call from my lawyer, stating that I would be allowed to see my kids the next weekend. The exchange would take place at a neutral address at midday on a Saturday and that I would be required to return them to that address by midday on Sunday.

"It's fucking bullshit," I stated, "I get my kids for twenty-four hours. I'm their father!"

"I'm sorry, Mark, but that's all that's being allowed. I can tell you right now that she's going for full custody with very limited visitation for you."

"I'm going to fight this, George. I want to see my kids."

"I know, mate. We're all aware, but your wife has some real fucking sharks on her side. They're using every dirty trick in the book. I'll do what I can though."

"Anything, mate. I don't care what you need to do."

I wasn't blind to the change in their attitude the first time I collected them on Saturday. Surprisingly, my wife was the one to deliver them. She didn't get out of the car, and I was probably thankful she couldn't see my eyes behind my sunglasses. While they hugged me, the bond we'd once had was already being severed. As I drove them home, I had to explain I no longer lived in the house we'd once lived in. Pulling up outside the townhouse, I showed them around before they asked where they would be sleeping.

"You can take my bedroom, Charlie," I told my son, "You can take the other room, Jessica."

Neither of them looked particularly impressed, but being fourteen and just turned thirteen - yes, I'd even been prevented from wishing my daughter 'Happy Birthday' when entering her teenage years - I knew it was vastly different to the home they'd once grown up in, and I had no idea what they were getting while living with Lucas and their mother.

It was just awkward, and I hated it. They were perfectly polite with me, and I did my best to keep them entertained, but I was left thinking when they disappeared to bed that they were immediately bored in my company. I did take them out for breakfast the next morning, raising smiles and again they were polite, but when I arrived at the drop-off point, I received a quick hug from each of them before they got into their mother's car.

I didn't miss the fact the Toyota had been traded in for a Mercedes-Benz with a personalised number plate with her name on it.

At least I was allowed to call my kids during the week from that point on. At first, they were happy to talk to me whenever I called though their visits just remained awkward as hell, left with the feeling that although they wanted to show they loved me, as much as I wanted to show how much I still loved them, they were only going through the motions. I wasn't going to be a performing monkey for them. I sat them down and explained the reality of the situation, but I learned plenty from them each and every time.

It was obvious their mother was in their ear and Lucas was doing all he could to buy their love. My son had always been my mini-me, but my daughter had always been the apple of my eye. When I realised that she was pulling away as well, the affection well and truly dying off with each passing fortnight, I had a sinking feeling that I'd lost my wife and was now losing my kids.

It was a Thursday night around four months later, the divorce now looming on the horizon, when I was surprised to see Carly calling me. I hadn't spoken to her since that night she walked out on me. Part of me didn't want to answer, but I did think she'd only call about the kids.

"Yes?" I said upon answering.

"Hello, Mark. It's Carly."

"What do you want?" I asked bluntly.

"There's no need for rudeness, Mark." I took a deep breath and counted to three. As I didn't reply, she continued. "I'm calling to let you know the kids won't be coming this weekend. They have other things they wish to do."

And there it was. If I forced my kids to come visit me, I'd be the bad guy in their eyes, and our relationship would get even worse. If I didn't force my kids to visit, I'd look like a deadbeat father in the eyes of the court, asked why I wasn't visiting my kids.

"Can I come visit them?"

"I don't think so, Mark."

"Can I have them for a night during the week?"

"Impossible given the schools they are now attending."

"You can't stop my kids from visiting me, Carly. They're our kids. Not just yours, and definitely not his."

"Jessica has a recital this weekend that she cannot fail to attend. Charlie would prefer to spend this weekend with Lucas on his yacht."

"What recital? Jessica hasn't mentioned anything about..." I trailed off and sighed. Carly hadn't even informed me about the schools they were now attending. Charlie and Jessica barely mentioned anything about their home life despite the interest I showed in their lives. Hell, with each passing fortnight, they barely said much to me whenever they visited, spending most of their time in their bedrooms, and would only begrudgingly spend time with me unless I took them out for dinner.

"You can call during the week, Mark. Maybe they'll talk to you then."

"I want to come to the recital."

"That won't be possible. It is taking place in Melbourne. We're flying down tomorrow night."

"I can..."

"No, Mark. You can't come as you're not invited."

I took another deep breath. "I know what you're doing, Carly. You're isolating me from our children."

I almost heard the smirk on his lips when she replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mark."

Then I heard a click, and I knew she'd hung up on me. I was immediately on the phone with my lawyer, but he pretty much confirmed what I already thought. I could demand that Carly give me my kids, but although it was obvious what she was doing, I had a difficult choice to make.

Although I would try and speak to my kids nearly every day, I rarely saw them between that day and the day I was in court to finalise the divorce and custody of the children. My kids barely looked interested in approaching me, while she came in on his arm, dressed to the nines. It was obvious she was now living the high life with him.

The divorce turned out as I expected. We had few assets to split, and those that we had, we kept what we had. To my surprise, she actually gave me eighty percent of the savings, stating she didn't need the money. When it came to custody, my lawyer fought as much as he could. When my wife requested no child support was actually necessary, I knew that was her final move.

"Mister Fontana is more than capable of providing financial assistance to his children," my lawyer argued, "But that must also be based on the proviso that he is given free access to his children without the influence of their mother and new partner ostracising him from his children."

The judge listened and called each of my children forward. And that was one of the final knives into my heart, both of my children were no doubt coached by their mother, as they spoke of their love for their mother and growing love for their new stepfather, and although they loved me as their father, they appreciated everything their new stepfather was doing for them, and they preferred living with their mother and spending time in their presence.

Sagging into my chair, I just felt the fight go out of me. You can't force anyone, not even your own children, to love you. It was obvious Lucas had bought off my wife and had now done the same to my children. I was aware of the house they now called home. The school they were now attending was one of the most exclusive in the country not just the state. I'd seen their photos in the social pages of the newspaper and online more than once.

The custody arrangement already in place was confirmed. Despite the fact I'd fought for my kids, asking for at least two nights a week and every second weekend from Friday night to Sunday night, the judge denied that, stating that the distance between the two homes meant the children would find it difficult regarding travel arrangements, and believed the best arrangement would be the one already in place.

Meeting my family outside the courtroom, I walked towards my kids. Lucas was a shorter, fatter, balding man and I saw the fear in his eyes. I wanted to gouge his eyes out and then piss in the holes. As for my ex-wife, even the hatred I felt for her had disappeared. I was just left flabbergasted that I'd actually married her. I truly had no idea who she had been at heart.

My two children could barely meet my eyes. "Is this truly what you want?" I asked. Both of them nodded. "I'll be at the meeting point every second Saturday. I'm not going to force you to come see me. But I'm your father and you know that I love you."

My now ex-wife and her partner turned and walked away. My son met my eyes before he walked away without a word. My daughter turned to walk away before she turned back and hugged me. I couldn't hold back the emotions any longer. "I do love you, sweetheart," I whispered. She didn't say anything before she kissed my cheek and jogged after her mother and brother.

None of my friends and family trusted me to be home alone for the next week. I woke up, went to work, arrived home and had a knock on the door within half an hour. I tried to call them every night. I had their numbers but only on Thursday did my daughter answer. The conversation barely lasted five minutes before she bid me goodbye.

The next Saturday, I arrived at the meeting point and waited until half past noon. Calling Carly, she replied at the sixth attempt to contact her. "It's obvious they don't want to come, Mark. Go home." She hung up immediately.

It took two months until I saw them again, and this time, only my daughter was in the car when my ex-wife pulled up. There was barely a hug or kiss from my daughter, and it was obvious during the entire time that she was only with me out of some sense of obligation. Pulling up at the exchange point the next day, we waited in silence for her mother to arrive before I turned towards her.

"Do you want to come see me again?" She didn't meet my eyes, but when she started to shake and obviously cry, I was still her father and I still loved her, leaning over to hug her. She didn't say a word as I savoured what I knew would be our last cuddle until her mother appeared next to us. "Okay, sweetheart. I have my answer. You know I'll always love you, right?" I felt her nod before I leaned back enough to kiss her forehead. "Tell Charlie that I love him too."

"I will, Daddy," she whispered.

She didn't say she loved me in return before getting out of the car. I couldn't remember the last time either of my children had said that. I hung up every time with them with those words. Glaring at my ex-wife as our daughter got her in the car, her eyes were hidden by her sunglasses, but I was left with the feeling that she simply didn't care.

The next few months were a struggle. I called my children every night without fail. Neither answered very often so I resorted to leaving them voice mail messages, letting them know that I loved them, and I missed them. I would wait at the exchange point every second Saturday for them to arrive, Carly now having blocked me from contacting her. I couldn't get the police involved as it was considered a civil matter, and my children had pretty much made it known they didn't want to come.

Carly married Lucas six months after our divorce. It was all over the nightly news, but what made me sick to the stomach was how my children were used. And when I saw more than one photo of them playing happy families, I almost lost it completely.

I'd taken more than one knife to my heart since the night my wife walked out of me. I could handle that, but the fact she'd done everything in her power to take my kids had nearly broken me completely. The last came a year after my ex-wife married. The phone number that appeared on my screen wasn't one I recognised. I usually ignored such calls, but sometimes I was curious. Answering it, I was surprised to hear my ex-wife on the other end.

"Hello, Mark."

"What do you want, Carly?"

"Is there any reason why you can't be friendly? I am the mother of your children. I was your wife."

"You're also an unscrupulous cunt who I'd love to see buried next to your husband in a six-foot hole."

The line disconnected and, I'll admit, I did feel better about things for a while. The phone rang half a dozen more times, not even allowing it to go to voicemail by answering and then immediately disconnecting. For the next two weeks, the calls were incessant until I received a call from my daughter. I knew it wasn't going to be her. I wasn't stupid.

"What do you want, Carly?"

"Enough games, Mark. I want you here this Saturday. We have a matter to discuss."

"Unless you're going to agree to change the custody arrangement so I can actually see my fucking kids, then I don't owe you a damned thing."

"That's exactly what I want to talk about."

Oh, how little did I know at the time.

I knew I'd be walking into a pit of vipers. I had a bad feeling that my wife wasn't being above board. I asked George to come with me, and for support, my two sisters wanted to come along as support. Pulling up outside their enormous house, the gates opened automatically as I drove up towards the front door. I'm sure arriving in a ute would put noses out of joint in the neighbourhood while my sisters were in a car behind me.

The door was answered by some sort of butler or servant, following him to an expansive dining room, where I was announced alongside my lawyer. It was absolutely fucking laughable. Absolute pretentious bullshit, but I knew it was the sort of bullshit that my ex-wife would absolutely lap up. My ex-wife was sitting with her husband and my children alongside three other people I recognised as their lawyers, the same fuckwits that had represented them during the divorce and custody hearing.

I didn't miss the fact my children barely glanced in my direction as I took a seat. "What are we discussing, slut?" I asked without preamble.

"Is that really necessary, Mark?" Carly wondered.

"I have no doubt you've spent the past couple of years brainwashing our children. I think it's time they learned who their mother truly is, while the vain fuckwit you're now with? I pray every day that he suffers a massive heart attack or stroke that'll leave him nothing but a worthless vegetable. The only reason I won't use another word to describe the both of you is that I still think they're too young to hear that one."

"Cunt?" my youngest sister innocently asked. I sighed as my other sister giggled to herself. "Oops, sorry," she added softly.

One of the lawyers cleared their throat, rising from their seat and walking over to place papers in front of me. "Please review this paperwork, Mister Fontana. We're hoping you will sign these today."

Adoption paperwork. The bitch wanted me to give up my parental rights so Lucas Fucking Wilson could adopt my children. "Absolutely fucking not," I stated, rising to my feet before throwing the paperwork back at them, "They are my children. My flesh and blood. You're not going to take my kids from me, Carly. Fuck me, I can't believe I actually loved you at one stage. You know, my sister was right. You are a cunt. A worthless, stuck-up cunt. George, let's go."

Walking outside, he checked his watch and laughed. "I'm impressed, Mark. That was around five minutes. I had a bet you would have stormed off within two."

One thing I knew about Carly was that she wouldn't give up. She tried a full-court press. I blocked her number. I eventually had to block the numbers of my children. Even her parents were stupid enough to try and intercede. I think I nearly made her father faint on the other end of the line when I told him to fuck off and die. It was only when my mother arrived on my doorstep that I knew I was fucked.

Sitting down with a coffee in hand, she was tearful, and I knew it was because of what she was going to tell me. "Carly has it written in the agreement that, even if you give away your rights, she will make sure we can still see our grandchildren. We will still be recognised as their grandparents. We haven't seen them in so long, Mark. I know this breaks your heart, but she said if you sign the paperwork, we can see them immediately the next day."

"But I'm guessing I can't?"

"I'm sorry, Mark. I truly am, but they're our only grandchildren. I love them with all my heart, just like her father. My only hope is that I can talk to Carly so she will relent."

"Mum... She's gone out of her way to completely destroy everything I once had."

"Your children are still young and impressionable. Give them time. They will soon remember how much you loved them. It's obvious what she has done to your family."

"Mum, I'm telling you, I sign this paperwork, I'm done. I'm gone."

"What do you mean?"

"If they force this on me, if they make me give up my kids, and it's bad enough that they want nothing to do with me now, then I'm gone. I'm not staying in Sydney. I won't even stay in Australia. Given you're Italian, I'll get myself a passport and head to Europe for a while."

"How can you afford that?"

Leaning back in my chair, I sipped at my drink before I nodded to myself. It would make me awful in the eyes of plenty of people but fuck it. I'd lost my wife and she and her husband had made sure I'd lost my kids. "There's going to be a price," I muttered.

Carly must have known my mother had approached me as she called me the very next evening. I wouldn't return to their house again, agreeing to meet at a neutral venue in the CBD. And I told her to come alone.

She was waiting for me when I walked in, and I made sure I walked in as if I'd just walked off a job-site. I smiled at the look of disdain that appeared on her face. I sat down and glared at her. "Okay, cunt..." She made to stand up and I shouted, "Sit. Down. You want the fucking papers signed, you're going to agree to my single term." She mustn't have expected it as she did sit down. "Half a million dollars each," I stated bluntly.

"What?" she asked.

"Half a million dollars. For each child. You want me to sign these papers, I want a million dollars. Half a million for each child you want me to give up."

She chewed on that for about two minutes before pulling out her phone. It was either Lucas or her lawyers, but it was a short conversation before she hung up and met my eyes. "Agreed."

I'll admit I was shocked. "What? No negotiation?"

"Lucas wants to adopt them to ensure they have the best opportunities. I want them to have the same surname as their father. Being Mrs Wilson with my children still having your surname is, quite frankly, embarrassing. The children obviously want nothing to do with you any longer."

"Because of you, Carly. What the fuck happened to you?"

"I'm finally getting what I deserve, Mark. And my children will be given every opportunity to be the best people they can be. They will be given the finest things life can give them. For Lucas, a million dollars is now the sort of change he can find down the back of the couch."